


Than Be Like You

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4556412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you hear about her husband?" they all say, behaving as though they think you cannot hear. Poor Mrs. Morgan, who lost her husband to madness. They would rather be widows themselves than be like you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Than Be Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyyyyy, something that wasn't written for Tumblr! :O Written for the prompt "fall from grace" on my HC Bingo card.

"Did you hear about her husband?" they all say, behaving as though they think you cannot hear. Poor Mrs. Morgan, who lost her husband to madness. They would rather be widows themselves than be like you.

No one will ever look at you the same. Not even you. But you did the right thing. _Henry is ill_ , you remind yourself. _I did what I had to do._

Yet you still hear his voice every day. He begs you to lie and say that you were wrong, say that he is well after all. He begs you to believe him. He screams your name, first as a plea, then as a curse.

When he tells you he trusts you, when he reminds you he trusted you, those are the worst moments of all.

But you can't let anyone see. You are the woman they talk about, you are the one who married a madman. They pity you to your face, then curl their lips in disgust behind your back. It will only get worse if they see the truth in your eyes, if they see you are humiliated, if they see how much you miss your sweet and clever Henry.

Appearance is all you have left. Your husband is insane, and you were never blessed with children. Friends? You have none. Those left as soon as Henry was taken to the asylum, not wishing to be tainted by his lingering influence. Oh, some of them pretend to still care about you, but you know the truth.

You are alone now, your ruined reputation and your tattered dignity your only companions as the world squeezes you in its fist, as it crushes you yet keeps you breathing. Your name is irreparably tarnished, but it is all you have.

No, not all. "Did you hear about her husband?" follows you everywhere, lurking in the sunlight, in the shadows, always nipping at your heels. Your constant companion. _Did you hear about her husband? Did you hear about her husband? Did you hear about her husband?_

Your husband, who trusted you. Your husband, who confided in you. Your husband, who died and returned—a living, breathing miracle. Who threatened to slice open his own wrist. Who nearly wept in relief when you lied and said you believed. Who called out your name as he was dragged away.

 _What have you done?_  you ask yourself every day, your guilt as sharp as the knife Henry held to his arm, as sickening as the terror that seized your chest when you thought you'd lose him again. You loved him. You love him. Once, you thought you'd never have a husband you could love, until Henry Morgan took your hand in marriage. Then, he was gone, stolen from you far too soon. But he came back.

He came back.

So you did what you had to do, didn't you. A husband who's been locked away is far better than one who's gone forever. He might never forgive you, but at least he is still alive to loathe you.

"Did you hear about her husband?" they say whenever you pass by. And you square your shoulders, hold your head high as you walk away, ignore their tittering about "immortality" and asylums. You ignore the guilt. You ignore the shame. You remind yourself that you did what you had to do, because you love Henry. You try to convince yourself you had no choice.

You're not sure you believe that, but you try. You have no choice.


End file.
